The Pale Bridge

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 16:00:02 -

The Pale Bridge

The mortar crumbled beneath my fingers, wet and cold as the clay of the riverbank, and I tasted the iron tang of fear rising in my throat before I even knew why. I was on the scaffolding, three stories above the cobblestones of the old town square, my hands deep in the mix that held the bridge together. It was a strange substance, this mortar; it did not smell of lime or dust, but of something...

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